Page 117 of Dust to Dust

“You haven’t dated anyone in two years?”

“No. I haven’t. While I might’ve fucked many women in that amount of time, I certainly didn’t feel anything for them or date them.” I pushed the hair out of her face. “I swear on all that is holy that I’ve wanted to tell my mam about you, but I wanted to do it in my own way. Especially not in front of my younger sister who would automatically think she needed to buy a dress to wear to our wedding.”

“Oh,” Isla murmured.

I smiled at her. “I’m sure the moment they heard we were dating, wedding bells started pealing in their heads.”

“I hope you know that the thought of marrying you isn’t a bad thing,” Isla huffed.

“It isn’t?”

She shook her head. “I’m not looking for it anytime soon, but it’s not the worst Idea I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t think it is either, Little Dove.”

“Good. Now that you’ve explained yourself, I think we can proceed with celebrating our anniversary, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sit,” she urged.

“Do I look like a dog?” I mused as I plopped down in the chair.

“No. But your behavior lends that way sometimes.”

“Ouch. You have the claws out tonight, Little Dove.”

To my surprise, Isla eased down on my lap. My hand slid up her back, entangling my fingers in the long waves of her hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” I murmured.

With a gleeful look, Isla dipped a fork in the pie. After scooping out a heaping bite, she brought it to my lips. “This is quite the service,” I mused.

“I’m happy to do it.”

The moment the pie hit my tongue, I fought my gag reflex. Considering how good it smelled, it was a shock to my system. How she could have made something as delicious as the colcannon soup yet screwed this up was beyond me?

Forcing a smile, I swallowed down the bite. “Delicious.”

Isla smacked my shoulder playfully. “How can you be a mafia man and be such a bad liar?”

My eyes popped wide. “I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are.”

With a resigned sigh, I replied, “Okay, fine. It’s terrible.”

Her rosy lips turned down in a pout. “I don’t know what I did wrong. I followed the recipe exactly as your mom gave me.”

“Maybe some of the measurements were off since they’re on the metric system over there,” I suggested.

“As a scientist, I should’ve foreseen that being an issue,” she lamented.

I swallowed my laugh. “It’s the thought that counts,” I remarked.

“You’re right.” To my dismay, she rose off my lap. But I was quickly rewarded when she bent over the bag next to the table, showing off her ample ass. She pulled up to reveal a pizza box from my favorite pizzeria.

Flashing me a grin, she said, “It’s also having a backup prepared.”

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